The voice of the Rover was solemn, and full of meaning; and it appeared to convey more than the simple import of the words. Wilder might have nursed long and vainly, however, on the equivocal manner in which he had been answered, had not the approach of a body of the hostile crew, among whom he instantly recognised the most prominent of the late mutineers of the “Dolphin,” speedily supplied a clue to the hidden meaning of their leader. “We claim the execution of our ancient laws!” sternly commenced the foremost of the gang, addressing his chief with a brevity and an air of fierceness which the late combat might well have generated, if not excused. “What would you have?” “The lives of traitors” was the sullen answer. “You know the conditions of our service. If any such are in our power, let them meet their fate.” Had any doubt remained in the mind of Wilder, as to the meaning of these terrible claimants of justice it would have vanished at the sullen, ominous manner with which he and his two companions were immediately dragged before the lawless chief. Though the love of life was strong and active in his breast, it was not, even in that fearful moment, exhibited in any deprecating or unmanly form. Not for an instant did his mind waver, or his thoughts wander to any subterfuge, that might prove unworthy of his profession or his former character. One anxious, inquiring look was fastened on the eye of him whose power alone might save him. He witnessed the short, severe struggle of regret that softened the rigid muscles of the Rover’s countenance, and then he saw the instant, cold, and calm composure which settled on every one of its disciplined lineaments. He knew, at once, that the feelings of the man were smothered in the duty of the chief, and more was unnecessary to teach him the utter hopelessness of his condition. Scorning to render his state degrading by useless remonstrances, the youth remained where his accusers had seen fit to place him—firm, motionless, and silent. “What would’ve have?” the Rover was at length heard to say, in a voice that even his iron nerves scarce rendered deep and full-toned as common. “What ask ye?” “Their lives!” “I understand you; go; they are at your mercy.” Notwithstanding the horrors of the scene through which he had just passed, and that high and lofty excitement which had sustained him through the fight, the deliberate, solemn tones with which his judge delivered a sentence that he knew consigned him to a hasty and ignominious death, shook the frame of our adventurer nearly to insensibility. The blood recoiled backward to his heart, and the sickening sensation that beset his brain threatened to up-set his reason. But the shock passed, on the instant leaving him erect, and seemingly proud and firm as ever, and certainly with no evidence of mortal weakness that human eye could discover.